The Artful Detective
by DontKillMyVibe
Summary: Chapter 4, the reveal, is posted! / Shawn and Gus attempt to crack a burglary-murder at a luxurious Santa Barbara resort. Tracking down missing art, taking advantage of the hotel's endless buffets, and attempting to win the affections of Juliet O'Hara, Shawn is ready to take down the culprits. His psychic impulses don't lie. And neither do his hips.
1. Chapter 1

**The Artful Detective**

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><p><em>"The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes." -Sir Arthur Conan Doyle<em>

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><p>"SHAWN! OPEN THIS DOOR, RIGHT THIS INSTANT!"<p>

Shawn Spencer, psychic detective, had just flopped down on his couch when he heard his best friend, Gus, at the door.

"Would you quiet down, Gus?" he yelled lazily from his position, "I'm just about to enjoy the lunch I made myself!"

"I'm not kidding, Shawn! I know what you did, and I don't think it's funny at _all_!"

"Gus, don't be a Sour Patch Gummy. I finally figured it out that it was you who was eating my rare Peruvian grapes."

"And so you decided to _inject _them with _habanero pepper juice_?"

"Yes, friend. And it seems like it worked. The rest of my grapes will be forever untouched by your hands." Shawn got up from the couch and went to unlock the door.

Gus stalked in menacingly, pointing a finger at Shawn. "I popped one in my mouth this morning at work in front of the cute new intern! Leticia hasn't talked to me since!"

"That's a shame. Do you want to taste the creation I prepared for lunch?"

Gus looked down at the tray Shawn had placed in front of the couch, and immediately his features wrinkled into disgust. "What _is_ that?"

"A recipe I've devised myself. I call it the 'Fire N' Ice Dog.'"

"That's disgusting. Vanilla ice cream on a hot dog?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Gus. I'm not a barbarian. The ice cream is bacon flavored."

"What you mean is, it's gross."

Shawn clutched his heart dramatically. "What can I say, not all of us can be food connoisseurs."

"Shut up, Shawn. You're experimenting."

"Experimenting deliciously, my dear friend."

Shawn picked up his creation, and was about to take a huge first bite of it when his cell phone rang. He reluctantly put down his hot dog and fished it out of his pocket.

"Yello?" he said into it.

It was Juliet O'Hara, the new policewoman that Shawn had recently developed a crush on, "Shawn, I need you to get over to the Bacara Resort on Hollister Avenue as soon as you can."

"Who is it?" asked Gus, taking a spot next to him on the couch.

Shawn turned to his friend with the phone still pressed to his ear. "It's my graceful water bird. Yeah, sure, Jules, I'll be there in a sec."

"Don't call me your graceful water bird. And hurry up. Lassiter's getting antsy since there's barely any evidence to collect. Technically, he asked specifically that I don't call you, but I want you to be here in case we missed anything."

Shawn heard footsteps, and then the distinct voice of Carlton Lassiter objecting to his presence.

Shawn rolled his eyes, and yelled into the phone, hoping that Lassiter would hear. "Hey, Jules, can you put me on speaker? I'll be HEADING RIGHT OVER THERE. Don't get Lassie too excited for me. See you in a few."

He hung up and filled Gus in on what he knew as they drove to the Bacara Resort.

When they arrived, both Shawn and Gus immediately felt out of place in their beat up, dingy car. The resort was enormous and intimidatingly rich.

After they were mistaken for guests and offered complementary chocolate chip cookies, Shawn and Gus decided not to correct the misunderstanding and took around seven each.

As they scarfed down their baked goods before anyone called them out on it, Gus noticed Juliet talking with what looked like the manager in a fancy suit in the next room over. They strolled into the room she was in, and both their jaws fell open.

The ornateness of the room was overwhelming. They could see their reflections in the floor as they looked around the gold room draped with red. On several panels around the walls there were abstract paintings with vibrant colors, as if it was illegal to have anything less than the brightest pigments. There was a skylight on the ceiling that illuminated the entire room. Gus shed a tear.

"Shawn!" Juliet called him over, and Shawn sauntered over with as much gusto as he could muster.

Juliet gestured over to the man she was speaking to. "This is Mr. Flemming, the owner of this art gallery. He called the police this morning to report a stolen piece. Mr. Flemming, this is our psychic detective, Shawn Spencer. I'm sure he'd love to hear your account of the events."

Shawn held out his hand, and the man shook it. Mr. Flemming had was a tall man of medium weight, thinning brown hair and multiple wrinkles on his face, although he couldn't have been over forty-five. He wore a sharp black suit with a nametag that read "R. Flemming". Shawn decided to go out on a limb.

"Ah, yes, the stars have told me a lot about you, _Robert_ Flemming," Shawn said, placing his hand on his temple.

Since Mr. Flemming did not look confused, Shawn assumed that he had guessed the correct name. He tested his luck a bit further, reciting information he had read in the newspaper the day before, "Wow! Owner of this _prestigious_ gallery, the best in California? Congratulations, my good man! I am very interested in what happened right in this very spot _yesterday_ night."

Mr. Flemming looked slightly impressed. "Yes, well you see, yesterday marked my annual art show here in Santa Barbara. I own many incredible pieces, and I sell very few because I get so attached to the majority of them.

"One painting, in particular, I have grown up with. It is my favorite, even out of the thousands of pieces that I have laid eyes on. It's called _Chaos_."

Mr. Flemming pulled out his cell phone and showed Shawn a picture. It was probably the most confusing painting Shawn had ever seen. It had blue, yellow, and red lines streaked randomly on a black canvas. Shawn couldn't find the words to tell the guy sorry. It didn't look like much of a loss.

Mr. Flemming continued. "I put _Chaos_ up in the middle of the far wall opposite to the door for the show. The party began at around eight, and people got to meander around the room, admiring the works of art. At nine, the guests all left to the next room over for dessert, my assistant Ralph was supposed to lock up the gallery.

"But the imbecile forgot to. And for a fifteen minute window, my paintings were unguarded. This morning, I woke up to look at Chaos, and the painting in place just didn't elicit the same emotional response to me as it always had. My suspicions were confirmed when I got a call from Liam Hastings, an art dealer. He told me that someone had called him pretending to me me, asking about the value of _Chaos_. I immediately called the police. The _Chaos_ in this room is a forgery."

Gus spoke up, "How much is it worth?"

The manager grimaced slightly, then extracted a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his forehead. "15,000 dollars," he said.

Shawn and Gus began to gag on their cookies. $15,000 for _that_? A three-year-old could accidentally paint that piece of crap! Rich people were crazy; did they know how many burritos that 15K can buy?!

Juliet assured Mr. Flemming that they would do their best to find it. "And even if we can't locate the painting, your insurance will be sure to reimburse you for what it's worth," she added.

Mr. Flemming shook his head. "No amount of money can replace the painting's meaning to me. I grew up looking at it as a teenager. It was my father's last gift to me."

Juliet nodded solemnly and turned to Shawn and Gus. "Lassiter took Ralph, the person hired to lock up the gallery, to the station. We find it really convenient how he forgot to lock up when he was in charge."

Juliet's phone rang just as she said this, and the caller ID showed that it was the very policeman she was just referencing. After talking animatedly into the phone for a minute, Juliet put it back into her pocket, a little color in her cheeks.

"Ralph's apartment was just searched. Apparently he was obsessed with that painting. There were about half a dozen copies of it under his bed. We've hired the best expert in Santa Barbara to determine if one of them is the real one. We're meeting at the station in thirty minutes."

After an hour and one Fire N' Ice Dog later, Juliet was pacing the office in front of Lassiter, Shawn, and Gus.

"I don't understand!" she said, clearly anxious, "the painting expert should have been here half an hour ago!"

Shawn tried to ignore the pain in his stomach, but after another minute of waiting he decided that he couldn't hold it in much longer. "Hey, while you all wait, I'm going to go head over to the loo. It seems that my Fire and Ice Dog isn't being as kind to my bowels as I had hoped."

Ignoring Gus's "I told you, Shawn", Shawn was about to head to the bathroom when Juliet stopped him.

"The men's bathroom flooded this morning," she said, "You're going to have to use the Porta Potty outside."

Shawn groaned. "Perfect, just perfect," he mumbled, but with his acid stomach threatening to burst, he found that he wasn't as discriminatory towards bathrooms as he could have been.

He half-walked, half-ran to the facilities in the side parking lot. After he had done his business, he came out whistling when something caught his eye. Something red in a car next to him.

Shawn walked closer to the blue car, and noticed a man slumped in the driver's seat. In his chest was a knife, and his shirt was wringing with blood.

Shawn felt the rest of his Fire N Ice Dog threaten to creep up his throat. With calmness that shocked even himself, he took out his phone and called Juliet.

"Jules, you might want to come over to the side parking lot quick," he said, "I think I know why the art expert isn't showing up."

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><p><strong>AN: Hello, everyone! This is my first fanfiction for Psych! ****I got the idea from a fake art case I was reading earlier this year, but my idea for the outcome is going to be way different. **

**I've been obsessed with the show for three years now, and getting the entire show on DVD for Christmas inspired me to write this! Some of my favorite episodes that I can't get enough of: American Duos, Office Space, the Musical, and basically anything that features Gus as his bold, black, and beautiful self. **

**Hope you enjoyed, Psychos! Pineapples forever!**

**X,**

**DKMV**


	2. Chapter 2

**The Artful Detective - Chapter 2**

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><p><em>"I think God, in creating man, somewhat overestimated his ability." -Oscar Wilde<em>

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><p>Dr. Woody Strode, the coroner, stood poised over a white sheet in his operation room.<p>

"Here's the skinny," he said, removing the top part of the sheet to reveal the art expert's head and torso, "this man, Edward Clement, died from blood loss from the chest."

He paused, as though Shawn and Gus were really dull and had to let his words sink in.

After an awkward fifteen seconds of silence, Gus said, "We can see that."

"Ah," Woody said, and continued, "See this slight bruise on his upper arm? That's a sign of struggle, so we can rule out possibility of a suicide. It looks like he was forcibly killed."

Shawn turned to Gus. "Did you hear what Juliet said about who this art expert guy was?"

"Yes, actually, I did. Edward Clement is the top art identifier in Santa Barbara. He's an expert in abstract pieces, and would have tested whether the Chaos found in the gallery was genuine or not."

Shawn clapped his hands together. "Great! All right, come on Gus, we have to bounce. Woody, thanks a lot. You stay creepy."

"You know I will." Woody smiled, his nonchalant demeanor completely wrong for being amongst the dead.

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><p>Shawn and Gus got back to the police station, and Juliet came out from behind her desk.<p>

"You got here at the right time," she said, "Lassiter just took Ralph Lopez, Mr. Flemming's assistant, in for questioning."

Shawn walked over to the interrogation room, where he got a view of Lassiter bending over the metal table, clearly invading a college-age boy's personal bubble.

"So what were you doing right after all the guests left after the gallery showing?" Lassie was asking menacingly.

"An artist that I really admire showed up at the gallery, and spent most of the night talking to her." Ralph was clearly uncomfortable with Lassiter's proximity.

"And you completely forgot to lock up the gallery, too, after the guests moved into the next room?"

"Not completely. I remembered about fifteen minutes in, and rushed to lock it."

"Huh. Did you say you were still in school, Ralph?"

"I'm an art graduate student right now."

"And you must have worked up a considerable amount of debt, isn't that true."

Ralph nodded slowly, as if he was starting to catch on to what Lassiter was implying. "I'm in a bit of debt, yeah."

"Were there any paintings in Mr. Flemming's collection that you admired?"

Ralph turned slightly pink, "I guess I took a liking to Chaos."

Lassiter finally cut to the chase. "Did you like it enough to steal it and switch it with one of your copies?"

Ralph's eyes widened and his fist curled into a ball. He shouted, slightly too loud, "No! I would never do that!"

Lassiter smiled, as if Ralph's outburst was incriminating enough. "Report to the station tomorrow at nine a.m. for further questioning. Thank you for your time," he said condescendingly, and strode out of the room.

Ralph put his hands on his face, and slowly slid them down. He grabbed his bag from a bin next to the door and was heading out when Shawn confronted him.

"Hello, Ralph," Shawn said mysteriously.

"Hello...?" Ralph responded, looking clearly confused, "Have we met before?"

Shawn's eyebrows perked up. "No! I've failed to introduce myself. The name's is Shawn Spencer; I'm a psychic detective at the station, and this is my partner, Not-Ginger Weasley."

Gus reached out his hand. "It's Burton Guster," he clarified.

Ralph shook his hand, still looking slightly baffled. "Do you guys think I did it too? I can tell you, honestly, I would never want to steal Chaos. It makes no sense; if I liked the painting so much, why would I sell it? I wouldn't risk losing it to the black market just to pay off debts!"

Shawn nodded, and observed Ralph's features. Nothing in his face betrayed that he wasn't telling the truth. "You know what, man? I believe you. Sorry about Detective Lassiter, though. Once he thinks you did it, there's no changing his mind."

Shawn slapped his new friend on the back, and continued down the hallway, where he bumped into Juliet.

"Hey, Jules, can I talk to you for a sec?" he asked excitedly.

Juliet looked at him skeptically, but finally relented and let him drag her into a corner of the station. She gestured that Shawn begin.

"I don't think that Ralph stole Chaos," Shawn began.

Juliet showed Shawn some pictures taken at Ralph's apartment. "Shawn, we found at least a half dozen copies of Chaos in his room that he painted. He was clearly obsessed with it. Plus, he was twenty thousand dollars in debt. Selling Chaos would cut back a significant portion of it."

"I think that's what makes him such a good person to frame it on. Come on, you know that Chaos wasn't the most expensive piece in the gallery. Plus, he wouldn't risk that his precious painting be lost on the black market."

Juliet scrunched her mouth to one side, which Shawn found extremely adorable. "I still think we should keep him as a suspect," she said at last.

Shawn couldn't help but roll his eyes slightly. "Do you really think we should be wasting time on him when a killer thief is still at large?"

"Shawn, you can't just write off our suspects, and have no suggestion as to the actual criminal!"

"I swear, if we just spent a little more time focusing on the galley, we can catch the real guy in no time!"

Juliet still looked extremely unconvinced, so Shawn switched tactics. "I swear, this is going to work. Watch me figure it out before you and Lassie do."

Juliet crossed her arms. She had grown up with four brothers, and was bred to be competitive. "Is that a challenge?"

"It sounds like it."

Juliet smirked. "And if I win and figure out who stole Chaos first, you have to unclog the men's toilet every time it backs up for the next year."

Shawn raised his eyebrows. "Interesting. But if I win..."

Juliet's curiosity piqued, and she leaned a touch closer to Shawn.

The edge of Shawn's mouth curled ever-so-slightly into a smile. "If I catch the person who stole Chaos, you have to go on a date with me."

Juliet's arms, which had been crossed, dropped to her sides as she widened her eyes in surprise. But she couldn't resist a bet. And, there was no way that Shawn was actually going to figure this out, she reasoned with herself.

"It's a deal, Spencer," she said curtly, and the pair shook hands.

Shawn waited until Juliet turned her back and began to walk away, and then pumped his fist in the air ecstatically. He located Gus from the opposite end of the room and gave him the hand signal for "Juliet agreed to go out with me." Gus' jaw dropped in surprise, and motioned for Shawn to come over.

Shawn twirled over to his best friend, and told him about the bet.

"So you're not actually going out with her unless you find the painting first," Gus said.

"No. I _am_ going out with her, Gus, and you know why? Because we're going to figure it out. Hurry, let's get back to the Bacara. I want to see if there are any more clues we can pick up."

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><p>In light of his wager with Juliet, Shawn sped into the Bacara Resort in record time. Before he could step into the gallery room, though, a man in a guard uniform stopped him.<p>

"You can't go in there," the man said with a deep voice.

Shawn was just about to explain that he was part of the SBPD when a man pushed past him, looking disheveled.

"I think I left my coat in the gallery," the man said, breathing heavily. "I need to get in for a second." He flashed an identification badge at the guard, and Shawn took note that the man's name was Liam Hastings. Shawn's brow crinkled. He had heard that name before. Where had he heard that name before?

A lightbulb went off in his head. "Excuse me, are you the art dealer who told Robert Flemming that someone had called you asking about the value of Chaos?" he inquired.

Liam looked slightly weirded out that this stranger knew so much about him. "Yeah, that's me," he said. "Who are you?"

"My partner and I both work for the Santa Barbara Police Department. Could you tell us what happened the morning after the gallery party?"

Liam didn't make eye contact with either Shawn or Gus, and kept his eyes glued to the gallery door, "Well, after I had attended the gallery showcase, I got a call the next day from a voice in a really strange accent. Looking back, it was probably disguised. Anyway, the person asked about the value of Chaos. I thought this was weird, since I knew that it wasn't for sale. I telephoned Mr. Flemming right away."

The guard opened the door to the gallery so that Mr. Hastings could get his jacket, and before he could stop them, Shawn and Gus brushed past into the room too, muttering bogus excuses. While Liam picked up his coat on a table on the right wall, Shawn's eyes were immediately drawn to a laser light that went directly across Chaos. If anyone had tried to steal it, the laser would have set off an alarm. Next, Shawn observed cameras at two corners of the room. One should have gotten a clear view of Chaos the entire night.

The guard came into the room to get Shawn and Gus to leave. "Sorry, but without proper identification, you can't be in here," he said.

Shawn ignored him. "Where's the footage to those cameras?" he asked.

"There's nothing we can collect from the cameras. The cameras shoot footage that's transferred to the front desk, but it doesn't record anything. The people at the front desk simply monitor the gallery with live camera video."

"So this hotel has no record of the gallery from that night?"

"I'm afraid not."

Shawn walked out of the gallery, dejected that he hadn't found anything. Juliet was probably getting closer and closer to solving this thing! He needed to move more quickly.

Of course, with Shawn Spencer's attention span of a peanut, 'move quickly' meant stock up on the hotel's cookies, and _then_ exit out the front door. Even Gus, who had the attention span of a slightly larger peanut, didn't object.

"I don't understand," Shawn said, as he scarfed down his treat, "How do they make the chocolate so rich?"

"This dough has more butter than sugar, Shawn. I'm in heaven."

"I'm telling you, man, if I could replay one moment in time, it would be the moment that this cookie first touched my lips."

Gus nudged his friend playfully. "Are you sure it wouldn't be the time where you first met Juliet?"

"Nah," Shawn said, a little distracted, "but soon, it _might_ be the moment that we go on our first date."

"Then we have to crack this case faster."

Shawn nodded, chewing the cookie now more contemplatively as he racked his brain for information.

His phone rang in the middle of his meditation, and he opened it to the voice of his annoyed Dad.

"Shawn, have you come by the house in the last week?"

"Yeah, I was just there yesterday. Why?"

"Great. Then you can tell me why there is melted bacon-flavored ice cream all over the table."

Shawn cringed, and realized that in his haste the day before to get to the Bacara, he might have possibly not returned his bacon purchase to the freezer.

"I'll be right over there, Pops," he said, hanging up the phone.

Shawn spun to face Gus. "Let's turn in for the day. Tomorrow, we should get to the station early to listen in on Ralph's second interrogation."

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><p><strong>A****N: Thanks Grimmster Girl, TheShulesLovinPsycho, SnydersofHanover, and Shutterfly Simmons for the feedback! I love Psych and it was only a matter of time before I cranked out a story! This chapter was mainly to get in a lot of information to build on events that come in later chapters. Don't worry; it'll all make sense very soon.**

**A couple of you had PMed me asking if I have written any other mysteries - I also write for Sammy Keyes and A Series of Unfortunate Events, which are both mystery series, but the only other distinct detective story I've done is called All The Madmen. If you decide to check it out, please be aware that I was a very inexperienced writer and EXTREMELY hyperactive...you have been warned. **

**By the way, I'm completely open to suggestions that you have for these chapters. I have the basic plotline planned out, but if you have a specific, like, Shawn/Juliet scene that you wanted me to write in, I'd be happy to incorporate it! Just comment or shoot me a PM and I'll do my best to work it into my story. :)**

**X,**

**DKMV**


	3. Chapter 3

**The Artful Detective - Chapter 3**

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><p><em>"You live but once; you might as well be amusing." -Coco Chanel<em>

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><p>Shawn and Gus raced into the police station the next morning, their hands stuffed with snacks.<p>

Juliet stopped them in their tracks. "Why are you so late? Lassiter took Ralph back into his second questioning twenty minutes ago!"

Shawn gestured to his arms, which held Nutella, Girl Scout cookies, popcorn, and beef jerky. "Safeway had a sale," he said innocently.

Juliet rolled her eyes. "Hurry up if you want to observe."

Shawn and Gus took their seats outside the interrogation room. They then spread out their snacks and began to pop them in their mouths like they were watching a movie.

Lassiter leaned down on the bench and asked Ralph, "Why did Mr. Flemming hire you to watch the gallery?"

Ralph bowed his head in thought, "Mr. Flemming took a liking to my art, and encouraged me to apply to the job."

Lassiter nodded grimly. "So you would consider yourself excellent in art, then?"

Ralph shrugged. "I guess. I've been painting ever since I was little."

The Head Detective began to pace the room, "And you're really good at copying art down to its most minute details, apparently."

Ralph nodded hesitantly, as though he was aware of the question's implications.

Lassiter moved on, proud that Ralph had admitted he liked replicating art, "Did you ever make any copies of Chaos?"

Ralph nodded. "I did copy Chaos a couple of times, but it wasn't a secret or anything! Mr. Flemming knew about it, and even asked me to bring it to the auction to show him."

"And did you bring it?"

Ralph's head lowered slightly, "No. I forgot it."

Lassiter snorted. "Convenient. So you called the art dealer Mr. Liam Hastings on the 23rd, right? And you asked how much Chaos was worth?"

Ralph nodded. "I thought I would impress Mr. Flemming with the value of his painting."

"But you disguised your voice, didn't you?"

Ralph shook his head. "No. I was sick that day, and my throat was groggy."

Shawn thought he heard Lassie mutter, "Likely story" under his breath before he faced Ralph with a humorless smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Lopez. No further questioning."

Shawn looked over at Gus. "Did you hear what Ralph said about Liam Hastings?"

Gus nodded. "Yeah, it sounds fishy."

Shawn slipped out his phone. "We'd better figure out where he lives."

Thirty minutes later, Shawn and Gus walked up Liam Hastings' driveway and knocked on the door. A butler almost immediately opened it.

"Can I help you?" the man said in a bored, French accent.

"_Oui_," Shawn said assertively, sweeping out his hand in an attempt to act like a figure of the high society. His French accent was appalling. "Is Mr. Hastings here?"

The man ran his eyes judgmentally over Shawn's t-shirt and Nutella stain on his khaki pant leg. He didn't shake Shawn's outstretched hand.

"I will go get him," the man said tersely. He disappeared inside the house.

Soon, Liam Hastings appeared at the door. "I've already told the police all I knew about the case. All I got was one phone call."

"Yes, you've told the police everything, but we'd like to shoot you a couple questions of our own."

Liam stood silently for a few moments before he stepped aside and gestured Shawn and Gus into his mansion.

In his living room, pristine white couches pointed towards a 72-inch television set. A bowl of fruit, the remote, and a stack of newspapers were arranged carefully on the glass coffee table in the center. Gus sat down on the couch very delicately, as though he were afraid he or Shawn might shatter something if he remained standing.

Shawn began his questioning. "Did you go to the gallery auction?"

Liam nodded slowly, "I was there. I didn't see anything suspicious, but I left around 8:30. My favorite television show was on at nine." He turned slightly pink at this admission.

Liam stood up suddenly, clapping his hands sharply together, "That's all I can tell you! Sorry to hustle you out, but I have an art sale in about half an hour and I have to get ready."

Shawn was about to respond, when the top newspaper on the coffee table caught his eye. The headline screamed, **Recluse Robert Flemming Returns to Auctioning Art**. The date wasn't today's paper, but dated back to a year ago.

Shawn lowered his voice and whispered to his best friend, "Create a distraction."

Gus was confused, "What? Why? There's nothing more than we can - "

"Just do it!" Shawn hissed. He didn't have much time.

Flustered, Gus turned to Liam Hastings, and turned the art dealer's back to Shawn. "Mr. Hastings, did I mention to you that I love the color of your walls?"

Mr. Hastings, confused, looked at Gus suspiciously. "My walls are white."

Beads of sweat appeared on his brow. "Yes, but that's what I love about them! So simple. So understated. You rich folk do have an eye for that, am I right? Heh heh." At this point, Gus tried to laugh nonchalantly, which only succeeded in making everyone in the room uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, Shawn slipped the newspaper off the coffee table and stuffed it into his shirt, making as little noise as possible.

When Gus noticed that Shawn had succeeded, he stuttered a quick apology. "Sorry about barging in on you. Thank you for your time." He and Shawn raced out of the house, not waiting for the butler to show them out.

"Dude, what was that?" Shawn said, shaking his head as they got back into their car.

"I panicked, Shawn! You don't know how hard it is to think on the fly like that! Why did you need the paper, anyway?"

Shawn was speed reading the article. He turned to Gus after he was done. "Eight years ago, Robert Flemming, the owner of the gallery, lost his entire family in a private plane crash. He was so sad that he quit art and became a recluse. Then, just last year, he came out of hiding and went back to selling art."

"Why would he appear out of hiding so suddenly?"

"I have an inkling. We need to get back to the station now."

They arrived back at the Santa Barbara Police Department. When they stepped inside, the first thing Shawn noticed was a very angry Robert Flemming yelling at Juliet.

"It's been far too long, and you haven't even made a minor breakthrough in the case! I'm removing the Chaos from the crime scene tonight. I don't care if it's a forgery...this is giving me more trouble than it's worth, and not to mention all the bad publicity. I'll take it up with private detectives from here!"

Juliet tried her best to assure him that they were onto something, but Robert Flemming was still ready to storm off.

Shawn couldn't let him leave. He nearly had all of the puzzle pieces - it was just a matter of cramming them together.

Something didn't seem right. What was it? What had he observed that wasn't fitting?

Shawn got out his phone curiously and made a single google search. When the image appeared on his phone, he slowly looked up.

"Wait, Robert!" he said, just as the art auctioner was about to leave. He stopped in his tracks.

Shawn whipped around to Juliet. "Quick, Jules - what's your favorite restaurant?"

Juliet's forehead crinkled in confusion. "Shawn, what does that have anything to do with the case?"

A half smile appeared on Shawn's features. "Because we're going on our first date. I know what happened to Chaos!"

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><p><strong>AN: Review and I'll update it next week! I can't wait to reveal everything to you guys!**

**X,  
>DKMV<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**The Artful Detective - Chapter 4**

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><p><em>"Oh what a tangled web we weave...when first we practice to deceive." -Walter Scott<em>

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><p>Robert Flemming's eyes widened. "Who is it, then? Where is my Chaos?"<p>

Shawn turned to Juliet. "I need everyone to meet at the Bacara."

Juliet, clearly in suspense, crossed her arms. "Why does everyone need to go to the resort?"

"Just trust me. Get Ralph over to the station and bring him and Flemming over there in thirty minutes. There's something that I have to check over there."

Shawn and Gus sped all the way to the famous Santa Barbara hotel. Because they arrived earlier than all the other police members, they were forced to fidget around while they waited for special access to the gallery.

After helping themselves again to the hotel's lemonade and endless cookie supply, Gus jogged off to use the restroom, muttering something about his bladder being too small for his own good. Shawn was reminded how it took a bathroom run, too, to make the first major breakthrough in the case. He had discovered the dead art expert on his way to the Porta Potty.

His thoughts drifted back to the mystery. Shawn was certain who did it. But why would that man want to kill the art expert? Obviously, the expert would have just confirmed the suspicions that it was a forged painting. Unless...

Shawn's head snapped up. It all fit.

Gus returned right before Juliet entered the hotel lobby, her head swiveling for a sign of either Shawn or Gus. Once she located them at the entrance of the gallery that was sealed off with crime scene tape, she walked over with Lassiter, Robert Flemming, Ralph Lopez, and two more policemen.

Juliet whipped out a key and the group shuffled into the gallery hall. When Shawn stepped inside, he swept his hand around the room.

"_Here_," he said theatrically, "on July 27th, Chaos was reported stolen."

Robert Flemming nodded, a slight trace of an eye roll playing on his features. "Yes, and I'd really like to get it back now."

Shawn ignored him, continuing on his soliloquy. "Nobody knew where it went. Was it here? Was it there? Did someone steal it for money? Vengeance? The police had no idea."

Flemming's ears perked at the word 'vengeance.' "You think that it was revenge? I knew it, I _knew_ that I wasn't delusional! Chaos was purposefully stolen from me!"

Shawn gave a little chuckle. "No, no, Flemming, nobody thinks you're delusional. More like bat-shit crazy."

Flemming froze. His eyes calmly settled on Shawn. "Excuse me?"

"You murdered the real Robert Flemming, and then impersonated him to sell off his collection for your own money."

Juliet gasped, and Ralph's eyes widened to the size of saucers.

Shawn pointed straight at the gallery owner. "Everyone, meet Dmitri Agire." The man flinched at the sound of his real name, as if though to run, but one of the bulky policeman grabbed him by the shoulders.

Shawn continued, "I knew something was up when I saw that newspaper at Liam Hastings' house. The article said that you had just come out of hiding to start selling your paintings again. Recluses don't just magically jump back into the public eye.

"Luckily for you, not many people knew who the real Robert Flemming looked like. He rarely stepped out, and made most of his deals online or through one of his workers. Also, you didn't have any family members you needed to convince, because they had all died in that plane crash.

"Anyway, you hired Ralph Lopez over here because he was so talented at reproducing artwork. He could copy things down to the skinniest of details, can't you, Ralph?"

Ralph nodded in a daze. His face was flushed and he stared with unbroken eye contact at the Flemming impostor.

Shawn rounded on Dmitri once more. "You began to pay him to replicate famous paintings, and then you would switch them with the originals. At gallery auctions, you would always sell the worthless imitation, and keep the expensive original for yourself.

"But Ralph here is a smarty pants." Shawn flounced over and tapped the young art intern's brain for emphasis. "He began to get suspicious. Why is that, Ralph?"

Ralph cleared his throat. "Well, he'd never tell me what he did with the copies after I would hand them over, and I'd never see them again."

"What could one man want with so many fakes?!" Shawn said, clutching his breast and looking tortured. "You, Dmitri, noticed that Ralph was skeptical, so you hatched a plan to get him out of the way. You decided to frame Ralph for stealing your prized painting, Chaos."

Gus couldn't help but giggle in the corner. "Good one, Shawn," he chortled, even though no one else was. "Get it? _Frame_ him? Like you frame a painting? Heh heh heh."

Juliet coughed awkwardly, and after Shawn went to go high-five Gus, he continued.

"You asked Ralph to copy Chaos and bring it to the gallery the night of the Bacara auction. You planned to take the painting, switch it out with the real one, and give it to Ralph, who would take it home and then the police would catch him with it. Once Ralph went to jail, you'd have access to all his forgeries _and _he would be out of the way.

"But what you DIDN'T count on is Ralph forgetting to bring the copy that day. You've harbored some bitterness for that. You couldn't switch the paintings because you didn't have the replacement, so your only choice was to keep the real Chaos up, and fake some feeling the next morning that it looked different.

"Chaos was never stolen. The one that hangs right here at the crime scene is the original." Shawn gestured to the painting that hung on the opposite wall. A singular light illuminated the most important painting in the room, drawing all eyes to its slashing patterns. The entire group was silent for a moment.

"How do you know that it's the real one?" Juliet said finally.

"See this beam?" Shawn asked, gesturing to the red laser that he had observed earlier. "If anyone had tried to move it, even Dmitri over here, it would have set off the alarm. So it had to have remained undisturbed.

"The next morning, everyone thought of it as a forgery, and the police already suspected Ralph. You thought you had gotten away with it.

"BUT. There was one person still in your way. You found out that an art expert had been hired to examine Chaos. You knew that once he studied the painting, he'd determine that it was the original, and Ralph would be let go. So, in the parking lot of the police station, you murdered him."

"In cold blood," Gus said emphatically, shaking his head.

Dmitri Agire, by this time, had turned a crimson shade. His body was trembling with hatred, but he extracted a handkerchief and dabbed his forehead lightly. He was trying with all his might to keep his cool.

"That is a very...interesting theory you have, Mr. Spencer. But unfortunately, there is no proof. Absolutely no proof."

"Ah, yes, that's what I had trouble with at first, but a quick little google search shows me a picture of the REAL Flemming from 1995. He is definitely not you."

Ralph scoffed. "So what? Loads of people look different after aging."

"Yeah, it looks like you put a lot of effort into looking more like the real Flemming. Did you have work done? I have to hand it to you on the dedication, man. But it's not me that needs convincing. It'll be the jury's job to compare the pictures I dug up on you.

Shawn pulled out his phone and started scrolling through all the photos that he had raked up. He turned his phone slightly towards Dmitri, and as though he was talking to a friend, commented lightly, "Isn't it amazing what technology can do these days? I mean, you're wanted in three countries? Quite impressive; it's incredible, really, how you've managed to stay free for so long."

Dmitri scowled and lowered his head. Shawn leaned forward, slightly, expecting a confession. Before he could think, though, Dmitri kicked out of the guard's grasp and lunged for Shawn.

He grabbed Shawn around the neck, but after half a second, he realized that he had a window to bolt. He retracted his arms and sped towards the open gallery door.

"After him!" Shawn yelled, and the entire company tore after the frantic impersonator.

Despite her pantsuit that wasn't designed for chasing, Juliet gained the lead, racing after Agire and dodging all the confused resort guests.

Dmitri tore through the hall towards the exit at the end. Barreling past a maid, he shoved her cart into the hall, trying to block his pursuers.

"I got this, Jules!" With a walloping war cry, Gus charged past Juliet to scale the cart.

Unfortunately, Gus was not an Olympic hurdler, and his foot caught the top of the cart and he face-planted into the ground. Juliet could not suppress an eye roll as she simply wheeled the car out of her way and continued her dash.

Shawn almost stopped to help his friend and salvage the little dignity that he still possessed, but Gus shouted from his crumpled position on the carpet, "Leave me, Shawn! I'll be okay!"

Shawn turned back to running and reached the end of the hall. For the first time in his life, he was happy to see Carlton Lassiter blocking the exit, his gun drawn. Juliet had her weapon facing a defeated Dmitri, who was in between them with his hands up.

"Nice of you to finally join us, Spencer," Lassie said.

* * *

><p>Shawn opened the door and Juliet stepped inside Aldo's Italian restaurant. Juliet smoothed out the skirt of her knee-length deep blue dress.<p>

Shawn sniffed. "This place smells so good. Thanks for recommending it, Jules."

Juliet nodded, a hint of a smile on her mouth. "It's been my favorite ever since I can remember."

The woman behind the counter came into the waiting area. "O'Hara, party of four?"

Shawn's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Huh, there must be another family of O'Haras here."

Juliet shook her head with a matter-of-fact expression. "Nope. That's us." She nodded at the waitress, who gestured for them to follow her.

"What are you talking about - " Shawn paused as he stared at the table that the woman led them to. In the booth sat an excited Gus, browsing through the menu, and a very irate Lassiter, who looked as though he had been forced into this.

"It's a double date!" Juliet announced peppily, taking Shawn's hand and scooting them into the booth opposite of Gus and Lassie.

"Is this okay?" Juliet said, an amused look on her face, which she tried to conceal with deep concern. "I thought, since we all did our part to solve the case, it was only fair that we all got to share the dinner."

"No, no, it's fine," Shawn said cooly. "The situation just scrambled my eggs for a second, there. Gus, would you mind joining me in the bathroom?"

Gus got up reluctantly. Shawn pulled him into the hallway of the bathrooms, and once he was sure that Juliet and Lassiter were out of earshot, he hissed, "Gus, you need to leave so I can be alone with Juliet."

"No way, Shawn! I spent all that money dry cleaning my suit - no way am I going to waste it!"

"Then can you and Lassie at least move to another table?"

"SHAWN ARE YOU SUGGESTING THAT I GO ON A DATE WITH LASSIE JUST SO YOU AND JULIET CAN HAVE SOME ALONE TIME?"

"Yes, that's actually exactly what I'm suggesting. Now go!"

Gus planted his feet and crossed his arms. "Never in a million years."

Five minutes later, Gus and Lassie were sitting at a table together clear across the restaurant, both silently fuming.

Shawn turned to Juliet and clinked his glass. "Thanks for agreeing to this."

Juliet sighed. "No problem. You figured it out on your own, Shawn. Quite impressive."

"Ah, it's nothing."

"No, it's actually really cool. Lassie hates that you goof around, but in the end you get it done before him. I really don't get it at all."

"What can I say, I guess I'm a walking contradiction. An enigma. A mystery man."

Juliet snorted. "Don't flatter yourself, Spencer."

Shawn leaned in closer. "Then what am I?"

Juliet shook her head slightly and smiled. "I'm really not sure yet."

"Then you'll just have to get to know me better. What do you say, next Friday?" Shawn looked up hopefully.

Juliet laughed. "You know, Shawn, a week ago, I would have said no way..."

Shawn's eyebrows raised in suspense. "Then what would you say right now...?"

Juliet scrunched her mouth to one side. "Fine, Spencer. I admit that I find your company not as maddening as I thought it would be."

Shawn let out a triumphant whoop, which caught the attention of several diners nearby. Juliet looked startled, but she was blushing from his reaction and not the embarrassment. Shawn stood up and bent over the table.

"I should bet with you more often," he said cheekily. He leaned in and kissed her.

_The End_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: ****This story was a blast to write, and I learned a ton about writing mystery fiction throughout it! ****I'd really love to hear your thoughts on my first Psych story. Comment below?**


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